No Greater Love
by Alcarin Elen
Summary: Faramir and Boromir remember a party long past...and the man they'd never forget.


**A/N: **Alliance Day is this author's clever plot device which allows the characters a convenient way to remember. It is akin to the American Independence Day celebration, and was 'created' in remembrance of the last alliance between men and elves, during which Sauron was (supposedly) defeated. This was inspired by the verse from the Bible, "Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends," and was written specifically for Easter.

* * *

Faramir leaned over the railing and allowed his thoughts to drown in the intoxicating swirl of sounds and smells and sights of the party below. So intensely concentrated was he in his attempt to clear his mind, that he did not notice the man standing to his right, until he spoke.

"Room for your big brother in there, I do I have to wait for the rest of the world to have its turn?" Faramir jumped back, startled. His brow furrowed until he realized who was speaking to him and remembered where he was. He smiled guiltily at his companion. "Boromir. You startled me."

"Is that what happened?" Boromir's deadpan face relaxed into a grin as he assumed his little brother's former position at the railing. "So, tell me, what was making you look so serious? I think you were frightening some of our guests."

He raised his glass slightly and nodded his head at two young debutantes in the crowd below, who had been watching the exchange between the brothers with great interest, and now giggled proudly at his acknowledgement. "Although," Boromir conceded with a heavy sigh, "you did not scowl quite enough to frighten them away."

Faramir chuckled. "Your attitude towards our guests is most honorable." An indifferent shrug from Boromir ended the discussion.

"So, little brother," Boromir broke into the comfortable silence. "You did not answer my question. What is on your mind?"

"Nothing of any importance. Do you remember the last Alliance Day that Thorongil was here?"

"You mean the one when we somehow managed to shatter Grandfather's vase? 'That vase has survived centuries through war and peace, straight from Númenór and is worth more than both your lives combined.'"

Faramir chuckled, although he wasn't sure if the laughter was due to the assortment of drinks he had already drunk during the celebration, or if it was due to Boromir's reenactment. "I never liked that vase anyways. That's my last memory of Thorongil. He left just after that. Remember?"

Boromir nodded. "I couldn't forget if I tried…"

xXxXxXx

Faramir and Boromir huddled behind the tack, trying to remain hidden while panting for breath.

"We're doomed," Boromir finally moaned.

"Shh," Faramir hissed. "He'll find us! We have to wait until he calms down. Maybe then he won't _kill_ us."

The boys froze as heavy footsteps approached them. Two sets of wide eyes stared in apprehension towards the top of the saddle. A face appeared over the polished brown leather and was met by a pair of nearly identical screams. Once, however, they realized that the owner of the face was Thorongil, their father's friend, sheepish grins replaced the screams.

"Hello Thorongil, sir." Boromir bravely broke the silence. "A very happy Alliance Day to you, sir."

"And to you too, my young lords," Thorongil's low, gravelly voice greeted them. "Would you care to enlighten me as to why two of Gondor's finest young lords are celebrating this year's Alliance Day in the tack room?"

Faramir exchanged a sheepish glance with Boromir before speaking. "We're…hiding, sir."

"Hiding?"

"Yes, sir. From Grandfather, sir."

"And what could the two of you have possibly done to cause you to need to hide from the steward?"

Boromir spoke, this time. "We might have kind of broken Grandfather's Númenór vase."

"Might have kind of?"

"All right, fine. Really did. But you can't tell him we told you!"

Thorongil laugh was poorly disguised by a cough. "Do you not think, my lord, that the outcome would be more promising if you admitted to your mistake?"

"Oh, no! …sir. Grandfather loves that vase more than anything else in the world! One time, a servant tried dusting it with the wrong dusting feathers, and Grandfather beat him! And he didn't even hurt it! Grandfather's going to…kill us…" Boromir's voice broke off into a pathetic whine. "I'm too young to die!"

Thorongil covered his smile with his hand. "Well then, I will leave m'lords to their escape. May Elbereth smile upon you." He bowed, and left the boys to their silence. A silence that lasted for all of thirty seconds, after which their furious grandfather pounced upon them.

"But Grandfather, we would never purposefully break anything, let alone The vase!"

"Your purposes are of no importance to me! Your actions have spoken for the two of you, and it is high time that you two learn the consequences of your actions. Do you have any idea what you have done? That vase was worth more than both your lives combined! It came straight from Númenór and survived centuries of war and of peace--only now to be destroyed at the hands of two careless children! This was Gondor's most valuable possession! It was the decorations of a king, and was meant to be kept safe by the stewards to await the return of the king. And what have you done? Ruined it!"

A voice from the back of the room called out, but Ecthelion was too engrossed in his tirade to pay it any mind. "You boys may be of my own flesh and blood, but your crime was heinous, and your punishment will be no different than if you were mere peasant children from the streets. You shall both spend five days in the prison—"

"Milord," the voice interrupted Ecthelion again. "Milord, do not punish the children."

The Steward glared up at the speaker. "Thorongil, I must beg you to refrain from interfering. It is my duty not only as their lord but also as their grandfather to discipline them as I see fit."

"Milord," Thorongil said again, "It would be wrong for you to punish the children."

"And pray tell, why is that?"

Thorongil bowed his head. "Because I take responsibility for breaking the vase."

Ecthelion narrowed his eyes. "You mean to tell me that you, a grown man, broke this ancient artifact, and then ran to leave two children to take your fall."

"That is what I'm telling you, my lord. But I am not allowing them to take the fall. I would not do that. That is why I'm here."

The hall was dead silent, save for Faramir's attempts to sniffle back his tears of fright. Finally, the steward heaved a sigh.

"If you insist. Thorongil, you are to spend the next five days in the Minas Tirith prison, with no contact from anyone. And after that you are to report to the stocks, where you shall spend the morning contemplating the results of your careless actions."

Faramir watched in awe as Thorongil bowed smartly and quit the room. He stood for several moments staring after him, and then, feeling the burn of his grandfather's glare, exited as fast as he could, Boromir a few short paces behind him.

xXxXxXx

Boromir chuckled, taking a sip of his beverage. "Yes sir, I certainly do remember that holiday. Do you remember what he told us when we asked him why he covered for us?"

"Of course I do! But it still makes no sense."

"I remember that he reminded me that I would 'someday be a leader of people.'"

Faramir nodded. "For some reason, I felt as if I were the one he was speaking to... I think of what he said nearly every day. How sorry is that?"

Boromir shrugged. Thorongil was a very quotable man. How did it go, again?"

"'The only man fit to lead Gondor is the man who is willing to sacrifice himself for his subjects.'"

"That was it," Boromir agreed. "Odd. It seems almost as if he were such a man, to lead Gondor."

Faramir laughed. "He was just being a good advisor. Thorongil lead Gondor. You make me laugh, Boromir. You make me laugh."


End file.
